


Hazy

by backtothestart02



Series: Backburner WIPs [13]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dream World, F/M, Romance, iris/eddie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtothestart02/pseuds/backtothestart02
Summary: Post 4x02 - With everything good between him and Iris again, the last thing Barry expects is to wake up in a time when Iris is not his fiancee but instead the wife of a very alive Eddie Thawne.





	Hazy

**Author's Note:**

> I held a poll for what fic my followers wanted me to write/start the last week of May (to be posted the first week of June) before I went on my westallen-writing hiatus until July. This was the most voted for option. I didn't have time to write any others. I haven't the slightest idea when I will update, but hopefully you will enjoy the first chapter.
> 
> *Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

_We are the Flash._

Barry smiled softly to himself in his sleep, the phrase running over and over in his mind, warming him, filling him with a sense of assurance and love.

_When I put this ring on my finger, it wasn’t just about your or me anymore. It was about us._

_How did I get so lucky_ , he wondered? To have Iris West not only be his best friend, his confidant, his constant support, but also to have her love him so passionately, so fiercely. She was his alone, and that fact honestly sent him into a tailspin sometimes. He might not have felt the past six months in the same way she did, but he knew how in love with her he was and how nearly losing her last year had gutted him every night and day. He could only imagine what she’d been through. Sex and love declarations and rainy days filled with cuddles were certainly helpful, but it was the unchanging feelings and loyalty between them that kept them as strong as they were.

He had to admit that Iris’ insistence and then outburst during couples’ therapy had made him worry a little. It was an oversight he could have avoided if he’d just sat still long enough during their quieter moments to pay attention, to see how she was silently suffering because of his lack of care, of realization.

Well, they’d fixed that now. Everything was okay. She’d saved his life, so he could save the day, and then he’d saved them by hearing her and listening and reacting in a way that healed.

When they got home, they shared another heart-to-heart, resuming their earlier interrupted conversation. But not much more needed to be said. At least not verbally. Arms wrapped around each other, lips and bodies connected in the most intimate way, euphoria; that solidified all that had been said and done between them earlier. There was trust and reassurance and happiness again. He knew everything was going to be all right.

And so, it surprised Barry that come morning – far earlier than either of them needed to be up – he opened his eyes to find himself alone in the bed. What’s more, the bed didn’t look familiar, and neither did the room.

_What the…_

He looked around, pulled back the blankets and climbed out of the bed. He was in a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants – not what he had gone to bed in – and when he found a bathroom and looked in the mirror, there was patchy scruff all over his face. Making a mental note to shave as soon as possible, he left the room to explore what he could only guess was supposed to be his apartment.

He didn’t know why he thought that. Maybe he had been kidnapped. Maybe he’d left to go somewhere, gotten drunk, and – no, you idiot. You’re a speedster. You can’t get drunk.

But it didn’t feel like either option anyway. It felt like this place was _his_.

He spotted a cell phone across the disgustingly messy room and snatched it from the table it lay charging on. Luckily his fingerprint worked just fine – _knew it was mine_. The background was different. Not a picture of Iris or anyone he knew. Just…black. _Weird_.

He found Iris in his contacts though and exhaled a sigh of relief.

_Thank God._

He pressed the phone to make the call and then waited.

“Hello-”

“Hey, Iris, listen-”

“You’ve reached Iris West-Thawne. I’m unavailable to answer the phone right now. Please leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks! Bye!”

His mouth ran dry. The phone slipped through his fingers. At the very last second, he caught the phone and set it back on the table, but his hands were shaking.

“No. No, it can’t be…” He shook his head, wandering over to the couch and sitting down.

Had he gone back in time again? He couldn’t remember running that fast or deliberately thinking of a moment in time to change. He couldn’t recall anything except going to bed with Iris that night – Iris, _his_ fiancée.

Besides, Eddie was dead. He was _dead_.

The phone started vibrating on the table where he’d left it, yanking him from his confused, mortifying state. He swallowed hard, horrified to investigate. But the curiosity ate at him. After all, it could be someone who could clear up this giant mess, who could tell him this was a dream.

**IRIS CALLING**

He stretched out the ring, so it lasted forever, so he could make a decision on whether or not to answer. He waited for it to end for as long as he possibly could. Then, he picked it up.

“Hey…Iris,” he said on a strangled breath.

“Hey.” He could practically feel her brows furrowing over the phone. “What’s up? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s going on?”

She was silent for a moment, probably not believing him for crap – especially if she was still his best friend. He didn’t blame her. He was still in too much shock to believably pretend everything was normal – whatever constituted for normal wherever he was. He was also a terrible liar.

“I, uh…just wanted to reach out, see if you were busy.”

“Nope, not too busy,” he said quickly.

 _Slow down, Barry_ , he scolded himself.

“Okay, well, um…you still haven’t RSVP’d to our invitation yet.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, though he had a pretty good idea who the ‘our’ was referring to.

“Invitation?”

“The anniversary party?”

_No, no, no._

“Um…”

“For me and Eddie? Barry, we talked about this. It’s our two-year anniversary. You promised me you’d at least think about it.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Yeah, what?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

A pause, then the happiness bubbled out of her.

“Really, Barry? You’ll come?”

He forced a tight smile. _You’re my best friend, Iris_ , he would’ve said if this was the timeline he knew except with Eddie not having died. But he didn’t know what they were to each other here.

“Just remind me of the address, date, and time, and I’ll be there.”

He knew from the barely detectable sigh that he’d been given this information multiple times before, but he decided to play dumb.

Because what came next was the last thing he could have ever prepared himself for.

Iris and Eddie lived at his and Iris’ loft. The party was in two days – ironically the day Barry had his first successful date with Iris. And the time was to the minute of when he’d arrived back at STAR Labs with Iris after having saved her from the Samurai just a few days prior.

“I know it’s a weird time,” Iris was saying. “But I figure no one will actually come at that exact moment, so why not let my husband be particular about this one little thing?” She laughed lightly.

“Right,” he said numbly.

“Barry, are you sure you’re okay?”

One thing. He had to ask her one thing.

“Iris…are we best friends?” he asked.

“Of _course_. Barry, of course we are. We always have been.”

_Well, that’s a relief._

“What’s happening? Is something going on you need to talk about? You know you can tell me anything.”

He seriously doubted that; at least with this Iris.

“I know,” he said instead. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

“You’re sure.”

“Positive. I’ll see you at the party, Iris.”

Click.

He tossed the phone further down the couch where he sat and ran a hand through his hair. He then pinched himself about a dozen times to see if maybe he was dreaming. He’d heard sometimes that worked.

It didn’t.

He slumped back into the couch and let the drowning feeling consume him.

_What. The. Hell._


End file.
